Yes, he had lived a full life, and he would leave something behind.
A daughter and a grandson.
And a bag full of stories.
And as Johann hurtled toward the great light at the end of the abyss, he thought how well his mother had done to give him this strange name.
Faustus. The lucky one.
He had never felt luckier than in this very moment.
Birds were singing, a woodpecker was hammering, and a bell started chiming softly, followed by many other bells. A myriad of other bells!
Karl opened his eyes and looked up at the sky, which was blue and cloudless. Twigs pricked him through his clothes, and he felt bitter cold. It was a crisp and bright December morning.
This isn’t hell, thought Karl. Where am I?
He sat up awkwardly, his head thumping as if the countless bells were tolling inside his skull. He felt as miserable as if he’d been drinking wine all night. It must have been because of the toxic fumes he—
Karl started, suddenly feeling wide awake.
Toxic fumes!
He looked around. It would seem he was in the small wood at the foot of Palatine Hill, somewhere close to the shaft. Among the barren trees stood remains of walls, broken columns, and stone arches that probably used to belong to the palace of Emperor Augustus. Memories rained down on Karl. He had climbed down into this cave with Johann and Greta, and Tonio had awaited them there with Sebastian on his lap. The doctor had spoken with Tonio, but then everything became blurry. Fragments flashed through Karl’s mind that didn’t make sense. A huge shaggy beast, a roaring, tongues of fire. Karl frowned. Somehow he had made it out of the cave. He turned around and saw a pile of rocks that looked as if they were freshly collapsed. Beside the rocks lay two figures.
One bigger and one much smaller.
“Oh God, no.” Karl scrambled toward them.
Greta was holding little Sebastian in a tight embrace, like the Mother Mary in Michelangelo’s pietà. Their eyes were closed and their faces deathly pale. His heart beating heavily, Karl bent over Greta. Her skin was cold, much too cold.
“It cannot be,” he sobbed, shaking her. “It just cannot be. Please.”
Sebastian began to cry, and moments later, Greta started to grouse.
“How dare you wake me from my deepest—”
She shot up. Her face was soot stained, her hair tangled and full of leaves. “Sebastian!” she gasped and drew her son into her arms. “Where are we? Where is Tonio?”
Karl was so relieved that he couldn’t speak for a few moments. The bells of Rome continued to chime, the day was only just beginning, and a cold sun came edging across the eastern end of the city.
“Tonio appears to have vanished, just like your father,” said Karl eventually. “Evidently we made it out of the cave. Don’t ask me how.” He pointed at the pile of rocks. “Perhaps that was the entrance. Now it is sealed for good.”
“Sealed?” Greta rocked her son and he soon calmed down. She hoped last night was nothing but a nasty dream in the child’s memory. Greta pushed him under her dress, warming him with her body. “And my father?”
“We need to find the shaft.” With shaky legs, Karl hurried ahead. It took them a while, but eventually they found the spot where they had climbed down into the cave the night before. By daylight and with the leaves covered in hoarfrost, the green bunches of parsley looked rather pretty. The rope they had used for their descent still hung into the hole, but when Karl went on his knees and peered into the darkness, he gasped with shock.
“The shaft has collapsed,” he said. “I can see rubble just a few feet down. Maybe there was an earthquake in the night, or the stones came loose, or—”
“If my father was still down there, then he is dead,” said Greta softly but decidedly. “Either he has been struck down by rocks or else the fumes would have killed him by now.”
“Maybe . . . maybe he managed to get out, just like us.”
“Then why isn’t he here?” Greta shook her head, her jaw clenched. “My father is dead. I can feel it. Remember what I saw in his hand a long time ago.”
Faust is dead.
Something in Karl refused to accept this thought. Never.
“Your father knows every trick in the book,” he said. “He is a wizard, remember? And he—”
“He is dead,” insisted Greta. “Accept it, Karl. He has been wanting to die since the moment he decided to face up to Tonio. He and Tonio.” She paused. “Maybe they both found their grave down there.”
“Maybe.”
Once more he saw the hairy beast in his mind’s eye, a beast with horns, surrounded by blazing flames, and in front of a glowing abyss into which the doctor jumps and vanishes.
Had the devil finally come to take Faust?
“Do you know what’s strange?” said Greta as Sebastian tugged at her hand.
The boy wanted to get away from here; he must have been cold and hungry. And yet he didn’t cry, almost as if he sensed that his mother was speaking of his grandfather, who had gone forever.
“I truly hated my father,” continued Greta. “He killed the father of my child, and he deceived us—yes, all of us, for years. He was in league with evil forces. But now that he is no more . . .” She hesitated, staring at the hole full of rubble. “I believe I have made my peace with him.”
Karl nodded. “Me too.”
Gradually the realization sank in that Faust might actually have disappeared for good. Left behind was the love Karl had felt for the doctor. Love, but also admiration and respect for the greatest magician of all time.
“I think he will never be forgotten,” he said eventually. “They will still remember him in many hundred years. Just like they are going to remember Leonardo da Vinci.”
“Who knows, perhaps you’re right.” Greta’s eyes gazed into the distance. “Remember the time in Erfurt when
