The Master's Apprentice - Oliver Potzsch Page 0,94
your trap, old man. I’m getting sick of your grousing.”
Slowly, like a fat centipede, the caravan of about thirty people and a dozen wagons moved toward the mountain ranges, which formed a natural gateway near Füssen. The narrow, rocky gorge through which the Lech River rushed right behind the city made Johann shudder. It felt like they were crossing an invisible boundary. Behind him lay the lovely fields and rolling hills of the Allgäu region, and in front of him was the inhospitable world of mountains, with its raging rivers, avalanches, and landslides—and, somewhere to the south, far beyond the horizon, the legendary Venice.
The river was their steady companion for the next two days, growing ever narrower and wilder. Wide valleys stretched between the mountains, which seemed to get taller with every mile. The path climbed gently uphill, but so far they’d had no trouble with the wagons and pack animals.
The area they now traveled through belonged to the county of Tyrol; it was heavily wooded and sparsely populated. Johann thought about his winter with Tonio, spent not far from here. He even thought he recognized some peaks. A shiver ran down his spine.
Is he still looking for me? he wondered.
Sometimes he thought he could still feel Tonio’s hand squeezing his as they’d sealed their pact. Peter had also spoken to Salome of an unholy pact. Johann wondered with whom the fiddle player might have made a deal. Another powerful man who’d promised him the world and brought him nothing but misfortune? Johann wiped his hand on his trousers as if it was dirty, but the memory of Tonio stuck to him like a greasy coating. He remembered Tonio’s words to him as his apprentice.
The pact is valid until I dismiss you.
In conversation with the merchants and pilgrims, Johann learned that not many travelers chose the upper route these days. Most took the shorter lower route, which led to Venice via Innsbruck and a pass called Brenner. Apparently, it took a horseman only ten days from Augsburg on that road, although by wagon it took much longer, of course. The Romans had established both routes a long time ago, and they were still the main passageways across the Alps. But the lower route currently suffered from severe flooding. Looking up at the cloudy sky, however, Johann feared the upper route wasn’t much safer.
The path led them higher and higher. They eventually left the Lech behind near a castle called Ehrenberg, which sat enthroned above them like the nest of an eagle. The road became muddy and rough. Potholes as large and deep as ponds slowed their progress. Archibaldus was forced to climb down from the wagon and walk. Sometimes they had to push, but they still fared better than the merchants, who regularly became stuck in the mud with their heavily laden wagons. On some days, they made only a few miles. Mustafa pulled and pushed like an ox, his muscles moving under his skin like fat snakes. Despite the cold, he still wore only his leather vest, and he still hadn’t uttered a word.
“Not long now and we’ll need additional draft animals,” said Emilio, panting as they heaved the wagon across the next pothole. The rain poured down relentlessly, turning the road into a field of mud. “That’ll be expensive. Let’s pray we won’t get caught in a landslide.”
Archibaldus nodded underneath the brim of his hat. “Yes, yes, like I said,” he replied, grumbling. “And this is only the first pass. But no one wants to listen to an experienced old traveler.”
At one point the road had been washed away for over a quarter of a mile. The detour cost them two extra days. Everything around them was gray and shrouded in fog; only rarely did they catch glimpses of jagged peaks stretching to the horizon.
Salome didn’t visit Johann during any of the following nights, either. The weather worsened. Thick snowflakes began to fall from the sky, and a few times it hailed. They still hadn’t reached the highest point of their journey. Green lakes sparkled between the rocks; chamois and ibex leaped along narrow tracks impassable to humans. Eagles circled high above them like messengers from another world.
“They look as if they’re just waiting for one of us to freeze so they can peck out the liver,” said Emilio, shivering in his thin juggler’s garb. Now Johann was grateful for his brightly colored jerkin with the ridiculous hood—at least it kept him warm.