The effect was powerful. The guests—most of them passionate opponents of Luther—cried out with hatred, clapped, and cheered. Karl was proud of his drawing, which he had made using a cheap printed leaflet from the Augsburg imperial diet. The picture had turned out rather well, especially the pig’s snout.
Johann raised his hand. “This Luther stirred up the peasants, even if he says he didn’t. I foresee great unrest in matters of faith for the coming year. Only if we put aside that argument will we be able to vanquish the four horsemen of the apocalypse. And the stars tell us who will lead our way.” He paused for effect. “See for yourself!”
The image changed again, and a portrait of Pope Leo X appeared. The chubby, peasant-like face, the bags under the eyes, the red velvet skull cap, the ermine-collared coat—Karl had made a good likeness of the pope, even if he hadn’t had much time and the image was almost too realistic. He glanced over to Lahnstein, who shifted restlessly in his chair. It seemed the papal representative wasn’t sure what to make of all this gushing praise. He probably suspected some sort of ruse.
And damned right you are, thought Karl. You’re in for the shock of your life.
“Beneath the strong hand of our Holy Father we will succeed in uniting the church once more and defeat the apocalyptic riders!” exclaimed Johann loudly. “The stars don’t lie, and that is why they show you the truth—the whole truth.” He paused again before continuing. “Even the truth about who is going to rule in Rome if we don’t succeed in unifying the church. Lo and behold the fearsome creature awaiting us all!”
With another sweeping gesture, the doctor again tossed a load of powder into the glowing embers. But this time, there was a deafening explosion, followed by thick smoke. On cue, Karl changed the image again, and this time a terrible beast appeared—so terrible that every member of the audience screamed out with horror.
It was a huge dragon with a fiery tail, its horned head looking straight at the crowd. The monster took up the entire curtain, its tooth-studded mouth wide open, its eyes glowing, smoke seeping from its nostrils. Karl gazed at his work with pride. He thought his painting was on par with Dürer’s horsemen, if not better. At least, it was just as terrifying. Another explosion followed, and this time a large ball of fire rose from the brazier. To the audience it looked as if the dragon was spitting fire.
“And I saw a beast rise up out of the sea, and it had seven heads and ten horns, and upon its horns ten crowns, and upon its heads the name of blasphemy,” shouted Johann against the noise. “The apocalypse of John. Yes, be afraid, because the end is nigh.”
Only then did Greta emerge from behind the curtain. She still held Little Satan’s leash in her left hand, while with her right she swung a small throwing knife which she now—sheltered by the smoke and unrest—hurled with one swift movement toward the chandelier. The knife sliced through one of the ropes holding the chandelier to the ceiling. The metal construct, weighing several tons, gave a jerk before swooshing to the ground and burying some screaming delegates. At the same moment, the hall turned pitch black except for the stage, where the flames of the brazier continued to flicker as wafts of sulfur and biting smoke spread through the room.
“Behold and fear the apocalypse! The beast is nigh . . . ,” shouted Johann with outstretched arms, truly looking like a sorcerer. The rest of his speech was drowned out by the screams of the guests, who all sprang to their feet and rushed to the exit. Chairs crashed to the ground, and someone prayed loudly to Archangel Michael; meanwhile, the fire from the brazier had caught the curtain, which in moments was in full flame. From there the fire soon spread to the tapestries along the walls and even the canopy of the prince-bishop, who had rushed to the door with the rest of the guests. Only Viktor von Lahnstein and his mercenary, Hagen, remained still amid the uproar. Hagen raised his mighty sword while Lahnstein furiously pointed to the front.
“Apocalypse my ass! This is nothing but a cheap trick!” he called out. “Guards, arrest this heretic! He is only trying to . . .”
Just then a black shadow emerged from the mist, accompanied by a sinister growling.
Greta had let Little Satan off the leash.
Like a dark angel the wolfhound leaped out of the smoke at Hagen, who was climbing the stage with his sword raised. Little Satan aimed for Hagen’s throat but the man dodged him, lunged forward, and, one moment later, stood in front of Faust with his sword against the doctor’s chest. The dog disappeared into the darkness behind Hagen.
“You’re going nowhere, Doctor,” snarled the mercenary. “Stay right where you are.”
Karl swore. They hadn’t reckoned on the huge Swiss soldier. A single man was enough to foil their elaborate plan. He shot a panicked glance at Greta, who was just picking up a fire poker from beside the brazier, holding it like a sword. Karl doubted that Greta—or the three of them together, for that matter—could do anything against the hulk with the longsword. As if he had read their minds, Hagen grinned and pressed the point of his sword harder against Johann’s chest. The fabric of his shirt tore and a bloodstain appeared on it.
“One wrong movement, sweetheart,” Hagen said in Greta’s direction without taking his eyes off Faust. “If you as much as blink, I will skewer your doctor like a rabbit. You’ll see how—”
He was cut off by a piercing scream behind him. In the light of the spreading fire, Karl saw that Little Satan had attacked Lahnstein in front of the stage. The calf-sized hound was pinning the mortally frightened, squirming man to the floor with paws as large as the palm of a hand.
“Off, off!” shouted Lahnstein over and over. “Goddamned mutt! Hagen, help me, why won’t you help—”
Lahnstein’s pleading gave way to panicked screams as Little Satan’s mouth came closer to his face. Hagen hesitated one more moment before lowering his sword with a curse, turning away from Faust, and leaping off the stage to help his master.
“You will burn for this, Faustus!” screeched Lahnstein, grappling with the dog. “You will burn alive for this!”
“Maybe,” said Johann, panting and wiping the sweat from his brow. “But not here and not today.”
As Lahnstein continued to rant and rave behind them, Faust, Karl, and Greta hurried through the biting smoke to a small side door near the stage. A tiny wedge Greta had installed the night before had prevented it from falling shut. During the same nighttime visit, Greta had managed to climb up to the chandelier and cut into the ropes just enough that one well-aimed throw had been sufficient to send the whole thing flying.
A dark, smoky corridor led them out into the courtyard, where chaos reigned. Guards were running back and forth with buckets of water, black smoke came pouring out of the palas, and delegates coughed as they staggered toward their chambers to save their belongings before the fire spread. The castle gate stood wide open as throngs of people fled out onto the road.
The troupe’s wagon was in the stable and the horse already hitched. Karl was climbing up when the wolfhound appeared from a cloud of haze, trotting toward them as if nothing had happened. His snout was red with blood.
“Little Satan!” exclaimed Johann joyously. “And I thought that Hagen finished you off.” He knelt down to greet the dog and stopped short. “Hey, what is that? Drop it, Satan! Drop it now.” With visible disgust, he pulled something from the dog’s mouth. Karl had to look twice before he recognized what it was, and when he did, he felt sick.
It was a human nose, or rather, what was left of it. A pale lump of cartilage with a scrap of skin.
“If I’m not mistaken, that is the beak of that papal representative,” said Greta from the box seat. “Yuck, Satan! You have bad taste.”
“It was much too big anyhow.” Faust tossed the bloody piece of meat far away from him. “But I fear we may have just made an enemy for life. High time for us to leave.”
He jumped up onto the wagon next to Karl, and Greta moved to the back. The gray horse whinnied and started trotting toward the open gate, while behind them, Altenb
urg Castle was ablaze.
Just like the doctor had prophesied, the apocalypse had arrived.
A solitary man stood among the smoldering, crackling chairs in the great hall and uttered a quiet curse. Guards ran past him; guests wailed, prayed, and shouted; someone was sounding the bells. But the man didn’t seem to notice any of it. He was staring outside through one of the barred windows, watching the doctor fleeing through the gate with his wagon. How ironic, he thought. Faustus had invoked the devil and thus managed to escape from him. The man took off his cap with the red feather and hurled it into the flames. He had been too impatient, and now he needed a new plan.
“Merde!” said the master angrily in the language of his childhood, from the time before he became an eternal traveler, forever hungry, forever on the search for something, much like the doctor.
“Dieu, je te maudis!”
Not far from him a burning beam fell from the ceiling, burying a guard. One of the guests, a fat abbot, ran past him with his robe on fire, looking like a torch with legs. The fire crept up the stairs and hungrily devoured the second floor of the palas.
The master nodded approvingly. Young Johann had truly learned much in the last decades, more than any university could have taught—yes, more than he himself could have taught him. Life had allowed little Johann Georg Faustus to mature like good wine. And perhaps it was for the best that he got away once more. So far, everything had turned out for the best.
There was a time for everything.
A time to grow, a time to die.
With slow strides, humming a tune, the master headed for the exit while chaos consumed the world around him. He loved chaos—it was his elixir of life.
For all things that exist deserve to perish, and would not be missed.
Everything would fall into place—if not today, then in the near future.
Up in the sky, concealed by thick plumes of smoke, three birds followed him.
The wagon sped toward Bamberg groaning and creaking. Johann whipped the horse like a man possessed, and the animal raced along the road at a wild gallop. Several times the carriage almost toppled rounding the sharp corners; Little Satan followed them, his tongue hanging from the side of his mouth. Johann knew they didn’t have long. Even if Viktor von Lahnstein had died following the dog’s attack, there were still Hagen and the bishop of Bamberg. By now, half an army could be close at their heels. If they caught him, Johann dreaded to imagine what punishment they might expect.
In spite of their desperate situation, he couldn’t help but grin. The show they’d put on had been truly worthy of Doctor Faustus. An invocation of the beast of the apocalypse of John—and in front of all delegates, the bishop of Bamberg, and the papal nuncio. The tale of tonight’s events would spread through the empire like wildfire.
And then we won’t be safe anywhere in the empire.
When they reached the foot of the hill, they continued on a little longer, the axle groaning awfully. Eventually Johann allowed the horse to stop. The gray’s fur was saturated and the animal gasped dreadfully; Johann guessed it wouldn’t have made it much farther.
“What’s your plan?” asked Karl, who had been sitting next to his master, chalk-faced and silent. Greta, cowering behind them, also looked nervous. Something in her eyes irritated Johann—he had expected her to handle the situation more confidently, or at least better than Karl. Or was there something else on her mind?
“Help me get the horse and the wagon into the woods,” ordered Johann briskly. “We must get off the road.”
Together they dragged the exhausted horse and the wagon through the hawthorn bushes at the edge of the forest. On the other side, they paused beneath the sparsely leafed canopy of the autumnal oaks. It wasn’t long before they heard the rumble of many galloping horses from the road. All three of them held their breath, but the sound soon faded. The soldiers had ridden past them.
“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” said Johann quietly but decisively. “We will only take what we absolutely need. If we walk north from here, we’ll come to Hallstadt, a town just a few miles away. If we’re lucky, none of the soldiers will have been there yet and we’ll get fresh horses at the inn. And then we can get a good amount of distance in a short amount of time between us and Bamberg.”
“And what about the wagon?” asked Greta.
“Stays here, just like the old horse.”
“But . . . but my backdrops!” said Karl. “The theater, my notebooks, the scientific research—”
“Everyone only packs one bag,” said Johann. “Not more—” He winced as the sword wound Hagen had given him stung, though thankfully it was just a superficial injury. “Our most valuable belongings are in the tower of Altenburg Castle, anyhow. The stargazing tube and most of my wonderful books.” He sighed as he pulled out a handful of tattered leather-bound volumes from under his coat. “At least I managed to take Leonardo’s Figura Umana and a few of my own notes. And I have enough money.”
He had sewn as many gold ducats into his coat as he could manage, but all his books apart from Figura Umana had remained in the tower room with the larger part of his fortune; he had lost almost everything. Johann gave the others a look of determination. What he had to say next pained him, but he knew there was no way back.
“Listen, you don’t have to come with me. From now on I’m a wanted man from one end of the empire to the other. The power of the Bamberg prince-bishop reaches far, not to mention that of the papal representative. If Lahnstein is still alive, he and the entire Roman curia are going to be looking for me—most of all that giant of a bodyguard. I’m afraid our happy times as a troupe of jugglers are over, once and for all. We have fallen a long way, and I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to rise back up again.” Johann paused before saying quietly: “Perhaps this is the moment we should go our separate ways.”
In truth, he had been considering leaving Karl and Greta for a while. As long as his daughter was by his side, she was in danger. He had wanted to protect her, but instead he had dragged her further and further down with him. During the previous night Johann had seen clearly that he needed to go this path alone, at least the last part. This here was between him and Tonio. His former master had sent him this disease. That much Johann had figured out by now.
And there was only one person who could help him in his battle against Tonio.
Karl and Greta gazed at him for a long while before Karl said, “I will not abandon you, Doctor. I stayed with you back in Nuremberg, down in the underground passages, and I’m going to stay with you today. You . . . you’re my mentor, now and always.”
“Thank you.” Johann swallowed. “You know I have nothing to give but blood, sweat, and tears.”
Karl smiled. “That’s more than my own father and the professors at Leipzig ever had for me. I accept the challenge. It is an honor to travel alongside the famous Doctor Faustus.” He gave Johann an affectionate look. “And besides, you need someone to take care of you when that accursed illness returns.”
Johann swiftly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, hoping the others wouldn’t notice. How many times had he been gruff with his assistant; how often had he been impatient and stern? Karl’s words touched him more deeply than he cared to admit. And Karl would always be of use to him, with his clever mind and many talents, even if Johann would never say so. Then he slowly turned to Greta.
“And . . . what about you?”
Greta sighed, then she stepped toward him and hugged him tightly. Johann felt certain that this was a hug goodbye, the farewell from his daughter whom he’d always tried to protect from all the evil in the world. And whom he still hadn’t told the truth. They remained standing like this for a long moment while the rain pattered onto the few leaves left in the trees. Somewhere in the darkness a nightingale called.
“I’m going with you,” said Greta eventually. “But only if you share your plan with me.”
Johann was shaking, and he struggled to speak. He hadn�
��t expected Greta to stay with him. Her decision to remain by his side was almost more than he could bear. He knew she would most likely be safer without him, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn down her offer. Greta was the person he loved most in the world, even more than himself.
“Thank you” was all he managed to say.
Greta loosened her embrace and looked at him expectantly. “So? Where are we going?”
“You . . . you’ve seen that I’m ill,” Johann started slowly. “The fits, the shaking, loss of control . . . They call me a scholar, wise—omniscient, even. But I don’t know what ails me or how much time I have left. And that is why I want to visit someone who might be able to help. He resides quite far from here—we’ll be on the road for a long time.”
Karl nodded. “I’m guessing you want to head to the university in Paris. Or to Córdoba, where even after the defeat of the Ottomans the best physicians practice. Or—”
“No. I’m afraid not even the best physicians can help me now. We are going to travel to where the most intelligent man I know lives—probably the most intelligent and educated man in the world.” Johann smiled thinly. “And you know I don’t say such a thing lightly. After all, I consider myself rather well read.”
Then he told them the name of the man.
4
THAT DARK AND STARLESS NIGHT, THE THREE OF THEM SET off together on another new journey. They walked along narrow game paths, the only light coming from a flickering lantern. They had left the wagon behind as well as the old gray; Faust had given it a slap on the backside and it had trotted off. Greta hoped it would find a new home somewhere and not fall prey to wild animals; the aging horse had grown on her in the last few years. Little Satan sniffed at the trees and lifted a leg here and there. Greta thought how happy he seemed compared to his humans.
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