The Master's Apprentice, page 8
part #1 of Faust Series
Johann laughed. “Do you remember the time we ate so much candy that I spewed on your lovely white dress? Your father gave me a good belting. And Ludwig—” He broke off. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Margarethe shrugged. “It’s all right. He was a monster, even though he was my brother. We both know it. Maybe he had some good inside him, but if he did, he never showed us. To him, I was a possession, not a sister.”
They sat in silence as little Martin balanced along the edge of the fountain like the tightrope walkers performing in the square. It was afternoon by now, and the first drunken figures staggered through the lanes. Soon the musicians would play dancing tunes—much to the dislike of the church, which considered dancing to be the devil’s wanton temptation. The air smelled of wine and rotten pomace, reminding Johann of Ludwig lying in the press basket like a squashed grape.
“Do you feel like going down to the Weissach River with me?” suggested Margarethe abruptly. “We can go back to the fair later.”
Johann frowned. It was typical of Margarethe to come out with such a spontaneous idea; she was like a leaf in the wind, moved by her whims. Maybe she just wanted to get away for a while because Knittlingen and the fair reminded her of her brother and his horrible death.
“Didn’t your father forbid you to leave the city?” he asked cautiously.
Margarethe waved her hand dismissively. “I’m nothing but thin air to him since Ludwig’s death. He spends his days staring at the ceiling, just like Mother. Ludwig was the apple of their eyes. I’m just a girl who’ll be married soon and out of the house.”
“B . . . but what about the m . . . missing children?” stammered Martin, squeezing Johann’s hand. “Our father also said not to l . . . leave town.”
Indeed, just before the fair, Jörg Gerlach had told Johann explicitly not to go out into the fields with Martin. It had almost sounded as if the old farmer remembered his fatherly duties for once, but Johann suspected he was just trying to prevent him from meeting up with Margarethe.
“Do you know what I think?” said Margarethe. “I think those children have just gotten lost. Schillingswald Forest is huge—they could be in Pforzheim by now for all anyone knows.”
“And what if it was the k . . . kobolds or the b . . . boogeyman?” asked Martin anxiously.
“Oh, Martin, you’re such a scaredy-cat!” Margarethe laughed. “They only exist in your imagination!” She stood up. “I tell you what. We’re going to Schillingswald Forest to look for the children. Imagine if we find them! They’d celebrate us in the whole of the Kraichgau!”
“You’re not serious, are you?” asked Johann.
But Margarethe crossed her arms on her chest defiantly. “You’re just shitting your pants like everyone else here! If you don’t come, I’ll go by myself.”
Johann gave a sigh. He knew that when Margarethe made up her mind to do something, nothing would stop her. And of course he wouldn’t let her go into the woods by herself. At least it was a way to be alone with her.
“All right,” he said with a shrug. “But only until it starts to get dark. We must be back before the city gates close.” He turned to Martin. “You better go home now. This isn’t for little children.”
“B . . . but I want to come!” said Martin in protest. “If you d . . . don’t take me, I’ll tell F . . . Father where you’ve gone and w . . . with whom,” he added angrily.
Johann was about to make a harsh reply, but Margarethe cut him off: “Let him come. At least this way people can’t gossip if anyone sees us.”
Johann nodded reluctantly. “All right, then.” He turned to Martin again. “But don’t wet your pants if we do see a kobold after all.”
Cursing under his breath, Johann walked ahead. He’d been thrilled at the thought of being alone with Margarethe, and now he’d have to put up with Martin! Would it never end?
Together they left the church and the fair behind and hurried toward the lower city gate. The shouts of the drunks and the noise of the fair faded away. All of Knittlingen seemed to be on Market Street and in the square, and the lanes on the far side of the church lay deserted. Finally they arrived at the gate, which was still open at this time of day. The only remaining guard had dozed off over a jug of wine presumably brought to him by a sympathetic colleague. The three explorers sneaked past him without problems.
Beyond the moat lay a few fields with a meandering stream, and behind the fields the forest began.
Even though the sun was still high in the sky, Johann thought the trees looked sinister and menacing, like an impregnable black wall rising up in front of them. He’d been here many times before, but today the edge of the forest seemed like the boundary to a foreign, evil land. They ran across a stubble field and soon reached the blackberry and hawthorn bushes at the forest edge. A jay screeched somewhere, and something big, probably a deer, disappeared rustling into the bushes.
“And now?” asked Johann, who was considering Margarethe’s idea increasingly stupid. “What do we do now?”
Margarethe pointed at the stream entering the woods. “A path begins there. I know it from when I used to go into the forest with my father. If we follow the stream, we can’t lose the path. It leads to a clearing with some large rocks and a cave. Maybe the children are hiding there.”
“And you think no one else has thought to look there?” asked Johann mockingly.
“I don’t know.” Margarethe walked ahead. “But I do know one thing: if we stand around here for much longer, we might as well turn back around and let the others search.”
Johann gave a shrug and followed her into the forest. Underneath the trees, it looked like dusk had already fallen. Many of the beech and oak trees hadn’t lost all their foliage yet. Patches of thick undergrowth made it hard to see the path. The stream gurgled along peacefully, and it was as though a large bell hung over the woods, muffling every sound within.
They followed the stream in silence, as if they feared waking sleeping beasts. Johann knew the area. He used to bring the pigs here to fill their bellies on acorns, although he never went deeper than a few hundred steps into the woods. Beyond lay the unknown, inaccessible territory of hunters, forest workers, and outlaws.
The deeper they walked into the forest, the darker it got. Fir trees took the place of beeches and oaks, barely allowing any light to reach the forest floor. Thickets of thorny bushes slowed their progress even more, as well as fallen trees overgrown with moss and fungi. Several times they had to take a detour around obstacles and struggled to find the stream again. They reluctantly called out for the children, but it seemed to Johann their voices were instantly swallowed up by the trees.
“I . . . I’m scared!” whined Martin. His small, hunched body was trembling, and his stammer had grown worse, which always happened when he was afraid. “Wh . . . what if the b . . . b . . . boogeyman finds us a . . . and eats us?”
“I told you not to come, damn it!” swore Johann.
“Don’t be afraid, Martin,” Margarethe said soothingly. “The boogeyman would spit someone like you right back out.” Her face was smeared with dirt and sweat, making her look like an angry forest sprite.
Johann knew the tales of the boogeyman and the kobolds. The stories were as old as time. But while he thought kobolds were just a myth, he wasn’t so sure about the boogeyman. Every now and then, travelers told stories about dirty, ragged figures hanging about the woods; outcasts, the insane, wanted criminals—the forest was their home, and Johann, Martin, and Margarethe shouldn’t have been there.
“I think we should turn back. It’s late,” he said to Margarethe. “We can come again tomorrow.”
“Just to the clearing,” Margarethe replied. “I’m sure we’re nearly there. I came here with Father once.”
Indeed, a short while after, they arrived at a small clearing drenched in afternoon sun. A handful of ducks fluttered into the air, quacking loudly, from a pond the stream flowed into; a pile of large, moss-covered boulders stood in the center of the clearing, forming a small cave at their base.
“Ha, I told you!” exclaimed Margarethe triumphantly.
Johann looked around the clearing. He’d never been here before. It was a quiet, peaceful spot, and he could indeed imagine that lost children might seek shelter here. They fanned out and searched the cracks in the boulders and the cave. But they found nothing, apart from old bear droppings and animal bones. Johann found a symbol scratched into one of the boulders: a bearded head with horns.
“What is that?” he asked, running his fingers along the moss-covered lines. “It looks very old.”
“I bet the boogeyman drew this,” Margarethe said with a wink. “That’s just what he looks like—same as you if you don’t wash your face.”
Laughing, she ran down to the pond and washed her own face, arms, and legs, lifting up her dress high enough for Johann to see her marble-white thighs. He followed and washed himself, too, casting furtive glances at her. The water was surprisingly warm for the end of October. The sun shone onto the surface, and the two of them looked at their reflections in the water: Margarethe’s freckled face with her flaxen curls, and Johann’s narrow, pale face with the dreamy expression in his eyes and the raven-black hair his mother had loved so much.
Meanwhile, Martin had climbed atop one of the biggest boulders and waved from up high. His fears seemed forgotten.
“I can see the city from up here!” He laughed, clearly feeling at ease; even his stammer had vanished for the moment. “Let’s stay a little longer, please?” he begged. “It’s so nice here!”
Margarethe looked at Johann, and eventually he nodded. He also enjoyed the tranquil atmosphere of this place. “All right!” he called up to Martin. “But you stay in the clearing, understood?”
Martin threw his arms in the air and whooped—this hunchbacked little person reminding Johann of one of those mythical kobolds. He loved his brother more than anything in that moment. After his mother’s death, Martin was the only one in the family he felt he belonged to. How could he ever have considered leaving Knittlingen? He had to stay for Martin. Martin needed him, and he needed Martin.
“He looks so happy up there,” Margarethe said with a smile, watching Martin’s little dance of joy.
“I think he likes being with us,” Johann replied. “We’re his family.”
Margarethe laughed. “You mean like father, mother, child?” She started pulling him toward the cave. “Then quick, let’s go into our house and cook a sorrel soup, like we used to when we were children, my dear husband.” She sounded playful, yet there was an undertone of desire.
Johann was glad to let Margarethe lead him away.
Martin stood atop the boulders as if he were the king of the world.
He’d never been so happy in his life! He had been shunned and despised for as long as he could remember. People called him a cripple and a fool. But he didn’t care, because all that mattered to him was his brother Johann. Especially now that Mother was dead. Johann protected him, played with him, and, most important, explained the world to him. Martin had so many questions. Why did the sun rise and set again? Where did lightning and thunder come from? Who made plants grow in the fields and calves in the stables? Why had the dear Lord given him, little Martin, a hunched back and a stammering tongue?
Johann didn’t always know the answer, but he always went searching for an explanation. And now his big brother had taken him into the woods with beautiful Margarethe. They had brought him, the little cripple, along with them. Johann, Margarethe, and Martin. They’d always be together, for certain! His brother would never forsake him.
Martin climbed down from the boulder and walked toward the pond. He knew Johann and Margarethe were doing naughty things inside the cave. Earlier, Johann had made him promise to leave him and Margarethe alone for a little while. So he played among the reeds and made small boats from tree bark, letting them float on the pond. Then he tried to hit them with pebbles and watched them go under. One of the little rafts sank right in front of him. He leaned forward and thought he saw a black shadow in the depths, like a monstrous, slimy fish. Frightened, he shot up and stepped back.
There was a gurgling sound, and a bubble rose to the pond’s surface. A slight smell of sulfur wafted across the clearing.
Martin thought of all the scary stories people told about the Schillingswald Forest. He thought about the kobolds and the boogeyman, who snatched little children. Suddenly the old rhyme the other children sang when they played no longer sounded funny, out here in the woods.
Who’s afraid of the boogeyman? No one! And if he comes? Then we run!
But then he heard Margarethe giggle in the cave, the afternoon sun shone brightly, and the shadow in the water had disappeared as quickly as it had come. The smell of sulfur also faded. Martin breathed a sigh of relief.
Still, the pond now seemed unappealing. He stood up and went looking for a nice stick he could practice using his little knife on. Maybe he’d carve a heart on it and give it to Johann or Margarethe.
Martin knew the best sticks wouldn’t be in the middle of the clearing but near the edge, where the forest began. He was walking toward a gnarly old oak when he heard an unusual sound. He paused and listened.
It was the sound of a willow whistle.
Martin knew willow whistles because he’d once made one with Johann. But he’d never extracted such heavenly tunes from it. The whistle he was hearing now played a soft melody, cheerful and sad at the same time.
It came from somewhere in the forest, not far from him.
Martin hesitated for a moment, then he entered the woods and immediately noticed how much darker it was than in the clearing. Again he heard the melody, but this time it seemed to come from another direction.
Martin was afraid, but at the same time he wanted to find out where the melody came from and who played it. With grim determination he clutched his little knife tightly and walked deeper into the forest. He didn’t dare to call out. A strange magic lay in the air; the trees seemed to bend down to him like friendly, curious giants.
The whistle sounded very near now.
Martin closed his eyes for a moment. What a wonderful melody! It almost sounded as if his mother were singing by his bed. He hoped the song would never end.
Susie, dear Susie, what’s rustling in the straw?
’Tis the little goslings, they don’t have any shoes.
Susie, dear Susie, what’s rustling—
There was a cracking sound and the melody broke off.
“What—?” he just managed to say.
Then Martin knew that the boogeyman was real.
And it was much worse than in his nightmares.
Johann and Margarethe were lying in the cave, where it was dark and cozy. The moss-covered ground made for a soft bed. They lay close together and Johann trembled all over, although he hoped Margarethe wouldn’t notice.
“Now I can tell you,” Margarethe whispered and leaned over him. Her hair tickled his nose. There was so little space in the cave that her breasts were pressed against his chest. “I didn’t want to come here because of the missing children, but because of you.”
“B . . . because of me?”
Margarethe chuckled. “You stammer like your little brother. Don’t act more foolish than you really are! Didn’t you notice the girls’ looks at the fair? I think it’s time we gave them something to gossip about.” She brought her lips close to his. “You’ve tried to kiss me twice before. It’s now or never.”
Johann turned crimson with embarrassment and didn’t know what to say. But he didn’t need to say anything. Margarethe kissed his lips. She tasted so sweet, sweeter than honey or apples. They embraced tightly while she continued to kiss and caress him. Margarethe took his hand and placed it on her bosom, which had grown considerably in the last year.
“Touch me here,” she breathed.
Johann didn’t need to be told twice. At first he stroked her very gently, but then he pushed his hand under her bodice. He touched her nipples, which were hard with excitement. A shiver went through Margarethe’s body.
“That’s good,” she whispered. “You’re the first to touch me like that, you know. I’ve always loved you, Johann. From the moment I first saw you. You’re so . . . so different. There’s something great inside you—I can feel it.” Then she chuckled again and her hand traveled to his codpiece. “I wasn’t talking about that.”
Johann tried to turn away in embarrassment, but she held him. “It’s all right, Johann. It’s all right.”
They stroked and kissed each other, and Margarethe proved to be the more adventurous one. “If I must be engaged soon, at least I want to know what to do,” she said softly. “It’s my gift to you. But I must remain a virgin—we have to be careful.”
Johann closed his eyes and let it happen. His fingers moved instinctively, sliding under her skirt and between her legs. She opened her thighs with a soft moan.
“My Johann,” she whispered. “My Faustus . . .”
All his dreams seemed to come true at once. He loved Margarethe and she loved him back! What could keep them apart now? Perhaps they’d convince her father to break off the engagement, or perhaps he’d simply run away with Margarethe and Martin. Anything was possible!
They kissed, licked, and tasted each other in the most intimate, forbidden places. While Margarethe stroked him, he let his fingers circle, playfully at first, then more and more urging, until Margarethe’s excitement erupted with a cry she struggled to suppress. They were so engrossed in their lovemaking that they didn’t notice how fast the sun went down outside.
When Johann finally stumbled back into the darkening clearing, Martin had gone.
“Martin, where are you? Martin! Martin!”
Johann had climbed atop the highest boulder, where his little brother had stood and waved to them not long ago. With growing despair he scanned the clearing below, which was steadily being swallowed up by long shadows. At first he’d thought Martin was playing tricks on them. He and Margarethe had searched every crack in the boulders, hoping Martin would jump out of one at any moment. But his brother wasn’t by the rocks or anywhere else in the clearing. How was this possible? Why would Martin go into the woods by himself? Unless . . . Ice-cold fear shot through Johann.
