Karl groaned. “That explains it. The horoscope was just an excuse. I always feared this would happen one day. Doctor Faustus is known throughout the empire, so why not in Rome? Perhaps the Bamberg prince-bishop could—”
Faust waved impatiently. “He’s got better things to do than stick up for a quack suspected of meddling in black magic and necromancy.” He counted on his fingers. “There’s Luther, an emperor on his deathbed, rebellious peasants . . . There’s trouble brewing in every corner of the empire. No, we’re on our own, damn it.”
He fell silent and bit his lips. Greta knew her uncle was thinking hard when he looked like that.
“We’d have to escape,” he mumbled. “If only I could get out of here, I know someone who could help me. If not he, who else?”
“But how do you propose to get out of here?” asked Greta, looking around. “This is a tower room high above the ground.” She nodded at the narrow, barred window; deep down below a few torches flickered in the courtyard. “The door is bolted from the outside, and that awful fellow in front of it ensures you can’t leave your chamber. You’ll definitely remain locked up until you’ve finished the horoscope and then—”
“Say that again!” Faust grabbed Greta by the hand and she started with alarm. Was he having another fit? She gave the doctor a close look.
“What do you mean?” she asked cautiously.
Faust had a grim smile on his face, and his eyes flashed with renewed determination. “Ha! You said I’ll remain locked up in here until the horoscope is finished. That is correct. But at some stage I am going to have to present the horoscope to the bishop, even if it’s just for pretense. The bishop is vain, I could tell, and so he expects something grandiose from me. I’m certain the presentation won’t take place in this barren tower room but most likely in the palas, in front of all those noblemen. The bishop won’t pass up the opportunity to put on a show.”
“That doesn’t help us,” said Karl dejectedly. “I’m afraid they will continue to guard you closely, especially in the palas. How can we escape with all those papal mercenaries at Lahnstein’s disposal?”
“By distracting them.” Faust nodded. “By distracting them with a very particular apparatus.” He rose to his feet, still shaking a little, and walked over to some books on the floor. There he knelt down and started to rummage. “Darn it, it has to be somewhere. I saw it earlier . . . Here!” He held up a book triumphantly and placed it on the table that Greta and Karl had stood back on its legs.
“We are going to build a new laterna magica!” he declared.
“The laterna.” Karl sighed. “I thought we’d never use that devilish machine again. Do you really think that—?”
“Oh yes, I do.” Faust grinned and gestured at the window. “The entire German Empire is gathered down there, and I think it’s time I did my reputation justice.” He opened the book and leafed until he found the page he was looking for—the page with the drawing of a box, a tube, and the outline of a devilish creature against a wall. He tapped his finger on it and jutted out his chin like he always did when he wanted to prove something to the world.
“One thing is for certain,” he growled. “The bishop and the delegates are going to witness the greatest and most breathtaking spectacle the empire has ever seen. No one toys with Doctor Faustus!”
The idea had come to Johann the moment he spotted the book on the floor. Just like Leonardo da Vinci, he jotted down his thoughts and ideas on pieces of parchment that he later had bound. Some of his notes dated back to his student days in Heidelberg. Back then he had constructed a laterna magica with his friend Valentin. He had been blind with ambition, and in the end the apparatus had led to the arrest and execution of his one true love. The thought of it made him tremble, and he breathed deeply.
Margarethe, my everything.
Nonetheless, he had used the laterna magica again during his early shows with Karl, until it was destroyed in the underground passages beneath Nuremberg. The apparatus could transfer images painted on glass plates so that they were displayed against a wall, where they appeared larger than life. It created a true spectacle, and Johann and Karl used to fill rooms and halls across the empire. Johann had kept the plans. It might take a while and cost a fair bit to get all the parts together, but they were guests of the Bamberg prince-bishop, after all. He was working on the horoscope of Georg III Schenk von Limpurg, and the bishop wouldn’t expect it to come cheap.
As soon as he’d finished explaining his plan to Karl and Greta, Johann had begun to put it into action. It was the morning of the following day now, and he had worked through the night, spending only the smallest part on the actual horoscope. He was sitting at the table, fine-tuning drawings and calculations like he always used to do. They would need a hollow mirror and lenses—he could borrow the ones from the stargazing tube—but most importantly, they needed glass plates for Karl to paint on, as he had before. Johann still thought the young man was very talented. Karl had soon overcome his initial reservations and liked the idea more and more; it would allow him to paint, and something more challenging than the pictures they had used for their shows.
Johann nodded with determination as he added more details to the drawing on
