The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,69
and lending money to bishops, dukes, and even the emperor himself. It seemed like those men were the new masters of the world—not knights, counts, and barons, like in his mother’s days.
After spending the last few nights in the wagon by the roadside, Johann was glad they’d soon be staying at an inn again—and in such an interesting place. But, much to his disappointment, Tonio gave Augsburg a wide berth, and soon Johann lost sight of the city’s battlements, towers, and cathedral.
“Augsburg is far too dangerous a place for the likes of us,” Tonio said. “The bishop gives short shrift to sorcerers. Not too long ago they boiled an alchemist alive because he claimed he could turn iron into gold.”
“Could he?” asked Johann.
“Only very few are privy to that secret. The quack in question definitely wasn’t one of them. I’m guessing he couldn’t even tell the difference between copper and bronze.” The master gave a laugh. “Do you know what boiled human flesh smells like? Just like pork! At the end of the day, we all wallow in the same mudhole.”
Johann said nothing. Once again he realized that magic was a dangerous business. Something that counted as a harmless weather spell in one place could mean heresy and death in the next town. White magic like astrology, chiromancy, and some alchemy was allowed, but black magic like necromancy and sorcery wasn’t.
Soon enough, he’d experience the difference between the two worlds firsthand.
Their journey took them to the north, toward Franconia. The snow had all melted now, and the hawthorn and fruit trees were full of buds, birds chirping among their branches. The master whistled a tune and seemed to grow more cheerful with every mile. At night, he barely glanced up at the sky anymore. It seemed he had reached a decision.
“I am hopeful we’ll soon be meeting our friends,” he said. “In the town of Nördlingen, we’re going to meet a man who can help us on our journey. I’ve known him for a very long time. If the message I sent off in the mountains has been delivered, he should already be there.”
Johann had long since given up asking Tonio about his mysterious friends. The master didn’t volunteer any more information, but Johann hoped he’d learn more in Nördlingen. He was itching to know why his arrival was eagerly anticipated in Krakow. The only explanation he could come up with was that he’d shown, during their time at the tower, that he was a gifted student. He was a fast learner, interested in everything the master told him—be it the power of steam as taught by Hero of Alexandria, which Johann observed each night above their cauldron, or the technical secrets of mechanical clocks like the ones they sometimes saw on town halls or church spires. The master also taught him about the herbs growing by the roadside. Their lessons often started with Tonio spotting something and jumping off the wagon.
“Black hellebore,” he said one time, pointing at a pretty white flower by the wayside. “You can extract a poison from this plant strong enough to kill emperors and kings. In very small doses, it can ease insanity. If you ever pick black hellebore, make sure you wash your hands thoroughly—or you won’t live long enough to regret your mistake.”
Another time, he pointed at the black smoke rising from a charcoal pile in the woods. “Grind the coal from an alder buckthorn and mix it with sulfur and saltpeter. The resulting powder is powerful enough to burst the walls of Constantinople—I saw it with my own eyes!”
Johann, sitting on the box seat, listening to Tonio, realized he was learning much faster than back at school in Knittlingen. Thoughts and ideas flew into his mind as if Tonio had tapped some sort of spring inside him that couldn’t be stopped.
After two more days, they reached a curious area. A ridge of hills forming a gigantic ring spread before them. It looked to Johann like a giant had thrown a rock into an ancient ocean. Once again he was struck by the perfection of nature, the symmetry of the natural world, as though it had been built by a clock maker. He thought of the beautiful crystals of snowflakes melting in his hand; the wings of butterflies; and flower petals following the sun all day. When he told Tonio his thoughts, the master laughed.
“God as a clock maker—don’t let the church hear you talk like that. They suspect heresy behind every