The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,89
if the cat had got him.”
Johann smiled, glad for the change of subject. Relic peddlers traveled the country with more-or-less-genuine relics, displaying them for money. He’d once heard that there were enough pieces of “the true cross” to build an entire city. Partly to blame was the fact that items were sometimes declared relics when they’d merely touched a relic.
Archibaldus gave an almost-toothless grin. “But I still have a few connections in trading circles because of my family name. Among others, in the German trading post in Venice. That’s where we stay for the winter, in exchange for a bit of juggling and music.” He snickered. “I’ve got a letter of recommendation from Hamburg, from very high places. It’s my retirement security, so to speak. And—”
“Hey, you two!” shouted Peter from up front. “Are you draining our wine together now? Come here, Johann, I need you to push. There’s a hill up ahead, and this horse won’t manage on its own.”
Johann was about to get up when Archibaldus clutched him by the sleeve.
“Those Latin words you said before,” he said quietly. “You know: homo Deus est. I don’t care where you got them from, but keep them to yourself from now on. You don’t want the wrong ears to hear them. Do you understand?”
Johann nodded, even though he wasn’t sure he understood. Was the old man trying to frighten him? He turned away and climbed out of the wagon. Long after Johann had left, Archibaldus’s eyes remained on the slit in the canvas. Then the old scholar sighed deeply and continued his search for the keg of wine.
With the slightly damaged wagon, their progress went slower than expected, and they ended up spending the night beside the river. Cold fog rose up from the water at sunset. Johann shivered but tried not to let it show. As the new one in the troupe, he sat a little apart from the rest while eating his stew. Salome gave him a few strange smiles.
Following their sparse supper, Peter played his fiddle for a while, and Johann thought once more that he was an excellent musician. Most musicians he knew from Knittlingen were drunken drifters who could barely keep a rhythm. But Peter was bowing his instrument like an angel, closing his eyes and losing himself in the music. Johann envied his apparent ability to shut out all his worries and fears for a while. He himself couldn’t do it, and so he slept poorly once more, dreaming of Tonio and small, squirming bodies in a clearing somewhere in the woods near Nördlingen. Several times he was woken by sighs and moans, but it was only Emilio and Salome, enjoying themselves not far from him under a thin fur blanket.
They finally reached Landsberg in the late morning of the following day. Johann was supposed to perform his first show there.
Like Augsburg, this town also lay by the gentle River Lech. A castle sat upon a steep hill in the east, tall defensive walls telling of the city’s power and wealth. Peter had been here many times before, and it wasn’t long before they were granted permission to perform on the market square.
Along with dozens of other travelers, they crossed the river on a wide wooden bridge with a weir on one side. The salt road led through Landsberg—it was an important trading route on which precious salt was carted from Reichenhall via Munich to Lake Constance. A salt store and road tolls ensured that the people of Landsberg got their share of the daily salt transport.
As soon as their wagon rolled into the market square, the first curious onlookers began to gather. Children flocked around the troupe; old men and women muttered prayers and made the sign of the cross but couldn’t help gawking at the jugglers’ colorful costumes. Johann knew from his time with Tonio that people were grateful for any distraction. There wasn’t much entertainment outside of church fairs and the occasional execution, particularly in smaller towns and villages. One or two convivial hours, a bit of laughter and amazement—jugglers took people on a journey to a land far away from the misery and monotony of their daily lives.
There was a fountain in the center of the square unlike any Johann had seen before. Water spouted into the air several yards high, resembling lances glinting in the light of the sun. Behind the fountain lay the three-story city hall with its tall, crenellated facade and stair turret and many windows. Johann