The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,68

year. The day is near . . .”

When Johann asked what he meant, Tonio merely shook his head and told him he’d find out in Krakow.

“You can’t keep walking around looking like that,” Tonio said one day, eyeing Johann critically. “You look like a scarecrow, not like the promising apprentice of an itinerant chiromancer and astrologer.”

Johann looked down at himself. It was true: his clothes were dirty and torn and much too small.

“We’ll need a new outfit for you,” the master continued. “Nothing in the garish patterns of jugglers’ clothing, nor the colorful garb of a dandy. It wouldn’t suit you—you’re a student of the arcane arts now, so we’ll need something serious, something plain.”

They visited a tailor in the next town, and Johann was fitted with a long black tunic, a warm black coat, and shiny leather boots. On his head, instead of a hat he wore a gugel—a type of fashionable hood that covered head and shoulders and was ideal in bad weather. His new trousers were made of the finest wool and felt nice against his skin. The master grinned.

“You look like an honorable scholar. Folks are going to doff their hats and ask you to write up documents for them.”

The countryside they were passing through now looked much like the Kraichgau. Johann learned that this region was called Swabia. Small villages were dotted among the patches of forests and the fields. The snow was melting, and it was nearly time for the first sowing. The wheel of life kept turning. Hungry faces marked by hardship stared at them from the fields. It looked as though Swabian farmers, too, had suffered much in recent years.

Once they passed a group of Dominican monks clad in black, chanting loudly and calling on people to repent their sins. The monks were accompanied by heavily armed mercenaries pulling a cart containing a chest with several padlocks. The chest bore metal fittings and, on the front, a painting of the devil with his fork, torturing souls in purgatory.

“Damned shavelings!” groused Tonio before spitting on the ground. “Don’t the farmers pay enough in tithes? Now they have to pay for a place in heaven, and one for the long-dead great-grandfather on top!”

Johann had heard of priests selling indulgences as a means of gaining forgiveness for sins. In the past, the only way to atone for one’s sins was through prayer or pilgrimage, but now people could shorten the amount of punishment they’d have to undergo with money. It was even possible to reduce the time long-deceased ancestors had to spend in purgatory—provided one had enough coins for the chest.

“People are as stupid as pigs,” Tonio continued as they drove past the chanting train. “And why? Because the church and the high and mighty deny them knowledge. But all that is going to change soon. Oh yes, soon! Homo Deus est!”

Johann had heard the last phrase from Tonio before. By now he could not only read Latin, but also speak it reasonably well. Despite understanding those three words, however, he still didn’t understand what they were supposed to mean together. The phrase didn’t make any sense to him.

Man is God . . .

There were more and more crossings in the road now, and increasing numbers of villages and towns. Trading routes led off in all directions, and every road seemed to be busy. Knights cantered past on their mighty steeds; expensively dressed merchants drove their heavily loaded carts along at a snail’s pace. Johann and Tonio heard some travelers talking about King Maximilian holding an imperial diet in Worms. The French had invaded Italy, and the accursed Ottomans threatened the borders of the German empire. Merchants were conducting business with faraway lands that had hitherto existed only in legends. The whole country seemed to be in a state of excitement, as if spring was liberating the entire empire from a long frost.

Five days later, the walls of a city appeared in front of them. Countless towers jutted into the sky, a large cathedral in their center. The greenish-gray ribbon of a large river gleamed in the spring sunshine. Hordes of pilgrims and merchants flocked toward the gates. Johann had never seen such a huge city before.

“Augsburg,” said Tonio grimly.

Johann had heard of Augsburg. He’d heard travelers in Knittlingen talk about this city; it was one of the largest in the German empire. They said it was ruled by patricians—powerful families of merchants and councilors who were unbelievably wealthy, owning properties all over the world