The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,90

thought about the old well outside the Knittlingen town hall and the moat with its murky waters. The closer they got to the Alps, the wealthier the towns and cities seemed to be.

“Nervous?” asked Peter mockingly. Johann was still gaping at the fountain. “Don’t soil your pants—Salome won’t want to wash them for you.” He laughed and handed Johann some items of clothing. “Put these on. They were a little too big for Lukas, so they should be just right for you.”

Johann pulled on a pair of bright-green leggings and a red jerkin with a hood as long as his arm. Colorful pieces of fabric had been sewn onto the jerkin, and it had several slits with yellow cloth showing underneath. It was warm and elaborately made, even if he looked like a fool in it. To his horror, Johann noticed that the right trouser leg had been poorly patched up and was speckled with dried blood.

“It’s a good jerkin,” said Peter, noticing Johann’s look. “Poor Lukas was given it as a gift from a Saxon nobleman who liked his tricks. Just before his death. We cleaned it as well as we could.” He gave a grin. “You’re not fussy, are you?”

Johann said nothing as he fastened the jerkin.

Their show on the market square was a great success. Emilio juggled, Salome danced with her veils, and Mustafa bent iron rods like willow branches. Even Magister Archibaldus appeared to be relatively sober, and the crowd bought his alchemist story and clapped wildly at the sight of his gilded staff.

Peter’s playing was so heartrendingly beautiful that people’s eyes welled up with tears. Johann thought he understood now where Peter’s name came from—Nachtigall meant “nightingale.” He wasn’t just a gifted musician but also an astounding singer. His voice was loud and clear both when he sang and when he spoke, and his announcements between acts made people laugh and gasp with amazement. Peter was without a doubt a born leader, even if his speech suffered slightly from the new gap in his teeth.

Johann thought his own performance hadn’t been too bad, either. The audience loved the trick with the egg; this time, he’d asked a slow-witted butcher’s apprentice on stage to pose for him. When Johann lifted the boy’s hat and people saw the egg, they roared with laughter. His card and coin tricks worked well, too, especially with Salome acting as his assistant. She handed him the cards and patted him down to prove that he didn’t have any additional cards hidden on his body, touching him in places that weren’t strictly necessary for the act.

Johann noticed that the young female spectators eyed him differently than had the girls he’d seen a few months ago. He had grown taller and had filled out a little. His hair was black and luscious, and his teeth gleamed white, thanks to a cleansing recipe from his mother using mint and mallow root. Still, he felt rather ridiculous in the slit jerkin and the long gugel hood.

Added to the proceeds from the sale of the broken wagon, the money they made was enough for accommodation at a decent inn near the church and a bowl of hot meat stew for each of them. And the innkeeper promised to have their battered wagon fixed the following day.

They stayed in Landsberg for two more days, giving three shows a day. At first Johann’s performance had been a bit rusty, but with each show the tricks came a little more easily. Still, Peter remained cold toward him. Johann feared the man would never forgive him the gap in his teeth.

In the hours before and between shows, Johann practiced juggling with Emilio and learned that the young juggler was deft with a throwing knife. Johann pulled out his own knife and hurled it at a wagon wheel, where the blade came to a trembling halt in the hub of the wheel. He’d had plenty of practice during his time with Tonio, especially when his hatred of all those narrow-minded Knittlingers had become unbearable. Emilio nodded appreciatively.

“If you get a little better, we might be able to turn it into an act,” he said with a grin. “With Salome, perhaps. But we better practice without live targets first—I don’t want you to make a hole in my pretty girl’s dress.”

On the second night, Johann needed to empty his bladder long before sunrise. He got up as quietly as he could. He shared a chamber with Archibaldus, who was snoring beside him.